


ache of the ocean

by lilabut



Series: a tale of darkness [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Gen, Past Violence, Princess Emma Swan, assassin!Hook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hook, one of the most feared assassins in the realm, is assigned with the murder of Princess Emma. The more he gets to know her, however, the more he begins to feel the emptiness where his heart has once been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt by _keepcalmwearetimeless_ on Tumblr.

**ache of the ocean**

 

Just give me a sign, there's an end with a beginning  
To the quiet chaos driving me back  
The lone neon lights and the warmth of the ocean  
And the fire that was starting to go out

**new york by snow patrol**

 

His eyes scanned the elegant curve of his hook, crimson glistening in the moonlight. The smell of blood was omnipresent, filling his nostrils, all too familiar, the cool scent of iron lingering.

 

Soft sobs interrupted the silence of the night, weak fingers wrapping around his forearm, too close to his hook, too deeply beneath his skin.

 

She was tearing him apart.

 

.

 

 

Not to far in the distance, he could hear the metallic cling of armor. Light amour, not suited for battle. Armour worn for prestige, for keeping up appearances. The sound was different, less lethal, footsteps less heavy.

 

The leather-clad fingers of his right hand trailed the curve of his hook, flawless metal replacing where his left hand had once been. It was a memory too vivid to ever erase from his mind, still playing tricks on him in the dark and lonely hours of the night when sharp pain spread through fingers he no longer had.

 

Hidden away in the shaded cover of trees, he had a wide view of the park that spread out behind the castle on the rock, the sound of birds mingling with the far-off rumble of foamy waves against weathered stone. Spring was working its spell on the vast park, colors and scents erupting from the ground, thickness of green covering every surface that was not prepared with snow white marble or pebbles as shiny as diamonds.

 

The castle at the other end of the park shone brightly, illuminated, its towers capturing the rays of sunlight, their first warmth after a cruel winter.

 

Slowly, the sound of armor and the soft click of shoes against marble became louder, and he hovered behind a large tree, hidden away from the bright world he was looking upon.

 

He saw her first from afar, two guards walking closely behind her, their armors truly for prestige, adorned with flowered patterns and delicately woven helmets. It only took a second for him to evaluate them, the threat they promised little. He could easily have waited for them to walk closer to the line of trees and finish this assignment in a matter of seconds.

 

But this was not how he worked. Not in broad daylight, and he did not kill who did not need to die. No collateral damage. Never.

 

He was not here for the two men in expensive armor, but for the young woman they accompanied. For now, she was too far away to make out the exact features of her face, but he was certain it was her. The princess. Too much talk was there of her in the kingdom to not recognize her, even from this distance. She was quite tall, almost his height, slender beneath the pale blue dress she was wearing. The pale skin of her shoulders shone in the sunlight, and there was a reflection to the fabric of the dress that promised silver adornments. When she bowed down to pick a flower from one of the many fields – a red one, the contrast to the pale imagery that was herself almost painful to look upon – he could make out a long braid of golden hair.

 

He stood perfectly still as his gaze remained focused on the young princess, collecting more flowers in her pale hands, a bouquet of many colors. More than once did he notice her gaze wandering off towards where yet another line of trees hid the grand water from her eyes. They walked closer, still too far away for him to make out exact features, yet close enough to take note of the slight movement of her head whenever she continued walking down the marble path. A nervous glance at the two men following her every move.

 

When she buried her nose within the petals of the flowers she had collected, he could not help himself but wonder why he was here.

 

Never before had he asked himself this question, had allowed the darkness of doubt to settle in his mind. But now it was there, slowly knitting into his brain. Why had he been sent to kill Princess Emma?

 

.

 

She preferred magnolias. White, spotless, unsullied. There was an elegance to her steps expected from a princess, yet a strength that made him wonder. It was her father she looked more alike, the king, and when she walked beside him on the marble stairs that lead from the castle into the park, her eyes looked up at him with love and dread. The golden tresses of her hair reached her waist, and reflected the sunlight as of they were woven for no other reason that to capture warmth.

 

She longed for the sea. He knew. Too often did her eyes wonder off into the distance, towards the great lake, towards the horizon kept hidden by trees.

 

Her voice was strong, the words that slipped past her lips spoken grandly and with care. Her chambers were located in the eastern wing of the castle, easily accessible by a thick growth of green that covered the stone walls, and a spacious balcony.

 

Finding a way into the castle had been too simple, the woven corridors providing more than enough shelter from curious eyes.

 

The kitchen staff brought warm milk into her room every night once the sun had set and the flicker of candles illuminated her chambers. Each time, the smell of something sweet yet tangy filled his nostrils, soaking into the cool stone walls. He could not find a name for the pleasant scent,yet he found himself breathing it in more deeply each night.

 

Night after night, he could have slipped into her room, could have finished what he had come to do. Yet, there was something holding him back. A tug that pulled him towards her room as well as away from it. A flutter whenever he looked upon her face, hidden behind corners and trees, a nameless shadow. She truly was as beautiful as was told. Beautiful, a bittersweet sadness woven into the delicate features of her face.

 

Looking upon her seemed to wake up memories and emotions he had long thought lost, buried underneath hate, vengeance and regret.

 

Brief glimpses into a past he had wanted to forget for so long. His dear brother sipping on warm milk by the fire, leaning against their mother's legs as her fingers sifted through his hair. Holding his brother's lifeless body in his hand as the smell of the salty sea spread through the captain's quarters.

 

A smile as bright as the one of the woman he had once loved. Dark hair, not golden. Hard features, not soft ones. More than once did he find himself tracing the sharp edge of his hook across the ink that marked his forearm, her name with him always.

 

He could not tell what held him back, what made him doubt his assignment. Why, after all the blood that had coated his hook, it was different this time. Why the thought nagged at his brain that the young woman sleeping behind the heavy wooden door did not deserve to die. Why the thought of his hook inside her heart was sickening to him.

 

.

 

The room was smaller than he had imagined, most of the space taken up by the canopy bed that stood close to the open balcony. Merely the dying flicker of a candle and the cool moonlight illuminated the room. Without the slightest sound, he closed the heavy door behind him.

 

_It took you a long time._

 

He knew her voice, had heard it many times over the weeks that had passed since he first saw her in the park when spring had awoken. Had heard her sophisticated words spoken towards noble men and women, caring words for worried peasants, had heard her crying when her mother, the queen, had left her room.

 

His steps halted immediately It was as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. There she stood, long hair falling over her shoulders, pale white dress flowing in the spring breeze.

 

_Why do you look so surprised? Did you think I would not notice you?_

 

The tone of her voice irritated him, his fingers twitching. This was not the plan, this was wrong. She was meant to be sleeping, he was meant to be out of this room in a matter of seconds, nothing but a dark shadow. Yet, here she stood, as bright as anything could possibly be in the darkness, her words calm, almost amused.

 

_I wondered when you would finally come. To be quite honest, I was surprised. I excepted you to be more frightening._ She took a few slow steps closer, allowing for the almost full moon to illuminate her like a halo. _More ruthless. And quicker, naturally._ He felt petrified. Many times had his victims been awake and facing him, and to be honest, he preferred it that way. Taking someone's life without giving them the opportunity to fight was bad form. Yet with her, he had seen no way around it. Never could he have looked into her clear eyes and watch the life creep out of them. _Hook._

 

Hook. The name he had given himself to forget the pain that his past bore. The name the realm had come to give him when a nameless face had begun to kill. When people's hearts had been pierced by just that, the metal curve of a hook. The sound of his moniker seemed to wake him from his trance, reminding him of who he was and what mattered. _Not a difficult deduction, darling._ He waved with his hook, angrily reflecting the moonlight.

 

It seemed odd that the pale light presented her with so much innocence, while it screamed death right into his face.

 

The sight of the weapon that gave him his name did not seem to frighten the princess at all. Instead, she took yet another bold step. He could make out the shape of her hips through the thin white fabric that hugged her. Soft and slender, even more so than the heavy dresses she wore during the day had promised.

 

_You are either very brave or very stupid, milady._

 

_Sometimes I wonder of those are not the same things._ It was there again, the bitterness. His thoughts pondered relentlessly. Where had it come from and why did she seem to be engulfed by it? Like a heavy curtain around her shoulders.

 

Continuously, she stepped closer. Slowly, and had she not looked so tender and innocent, he might have taken her for a beast hunting down its prey. _You know who I am. Perhaps you should stay away._ Still he was petrified, his hook heavy on his arm, like a useless token of long forgotten times.

 

The smile that broke out on her face irritated him, even more than this entire situation did already. _I could ring for the guards whenever I wish._ Her eyes flickered towards a golden bell against a deep blue curtain. It was just barely within her reach.

 

_They would not be here in time, I can promise that._ He whispered the words, perhaps in an attempt to sound more threatening to her, perhaps to warn her.

 

_So you promise it will be quick?_ The strength to her voice was still there, like a wall of fire that lingered around the soft melody. However, a slight falter disturbed it. A flicker of fear she could not hide. _When you kill me. That is why you are here, is it not?_

 

She stopped walking then, too far away from the bell to reach it before his hook would meet her chest. The fact that she knew about who he was, what he did, what he had done for too long now surprised him, her exterior not hinting at such dark and blood-coated knowledge. _Should a princess not be preoccupied with singing and dancing to know of such dark happenings in the kingdom?_

 

_I am sorry indeed if I disappoint you._ The wicked smile on her face cloaked her fear well, and she took one more step towards him. _May I ask a favor?_

 

_Excuse me?_ All he could do was look into her face she she stepped closer. Closer and closer until he did not have to reach out far to touch her, her face before his.

 

_Before you kill me, I should very much like to see your face._ Her eyes had flickered to the pitch black scarf that hid his face, nothing but his eyes and hairline visible to her.

 

_And why is that?_ Once more, his voice had turned into a whisper, the warmth of his own breath gathering behind the thick fabric that guarded his lips. The woman was a mystery, and what held him back was an even grander one. It would be so simple, to reach out and bury his hook in her chest.

 

_Because you have a look in your eyes that I recognize._ Her own voice had turned into a whisper, the strength almost forgotten, a vulnerable dance of syllables across pale lips. They were raw and red, and he guessed she had bitten them frequently before he had entered her room. _You look sad._

 

Her words bit like the icy cold of winter. _What are you doing, darling?_

 

_The night is long, and I know who you are. Where is the rush?_ The determination in her eyes was frightful. He could not quite decide whether she was buying time or genuinely accepting her fate. _Can I not make one last request before you take my life?_

 

_You should try to run away._ His advice burned on his tongue, and while he spoke them, he found himself taking a step backwards, his back hitting the door, heavy iron clasp digging into his leather coat.

 

_But I would very much like to know why you look so sad._ It sounded as if she was singing, a tale of old. The broken man and the woman in white. It scared him.

 

_What are you doing?_ It was all he could do, repeating his words. With each breath, she was crawling under his skin more and more. Tearing at his strings. A riddle he could not seem to be able to solve, dragging him down a path he was not willing to go.

 

_I have seen you. Hiding. Watching me. Assessing me. I have seen the look in your eyes, but never your face._ She slowly raised her hand, the movement causing the flimsy material of her nightdress to slip down into the crease of her elbow, exposing more pale skin illuminated b the moonlight. _Will it hurt?_

 

For a second, he was too captivated by her delicate fingers to move. When they hovered at the seam of his scarf, he turned his head away. _Not if you step back now and ring that bell._

 

_You said they would not make it in time._ Her hand had not moved, fingertips brushing over the rough material of the scarf.

 

_I might not risk it._ He was giving her a chance, an escape route, a way out, and he could not tell himself why.

 

She dropped her hand at the unsteady tone in his voice. For a second, his eyes followed the movement, before the sincere question that passed her lips distracted him. _Who are you?_

 

_You already know._

 

_I know you are Hook. A murderer._ Somewhere deep inside, so well hidden that he could not pinpoint where, the word hurt him. Bothered him. Seemed wrong, when it was so dreadfully right. _But who I see now... That can not be all._

 

Like an insect she was crawling underneath his skin. _Step back._ His words were no more a whisper than a threat, a soundless hiss before he turned on his heels and pulled the door open, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor like the shadow he was.

 

.

 

He wanted to curse her for her foolishness. All day he had spent looming in the shadows of the castle, watching everything go about its usual way. Nothing had changed, no indicator that the princess had almost lost her life in the past night.

 

If her plan had been to confuse him, then she had succeeded.

 

Once the moon had risen to its full glory against the night sky, reflecting on the water that lined the castle, he slipped back into her room, once more without a sound to notice. And once more he was faced with her.

 

_Why did you not tell?_ He spoke before she could lure him into a trance once more. Perhaps that was who she was. A bloody siren. _There were no guards, nothing._

 

Her fingers trailed a curl of her hair as she looked at him. No more smiles, no more wickedness. She simply stared at him, vulnerable and open. _You came to kill me and you did not. What are you afraid of?_

 

She had been sitting on her bed, legs crossed beneath her, but now she stood gracefully, moving towards him, waiting for his reply. _I don't know._

 

_Who are you?_ Like a repetition of the night before, she stopped before him, only this time, there was no more fear knitted delicately into her words, and her hands remained still. _What is your name?_

 

There still was no explanation for why he allowed her to play him like this, why he responded, why he let her words reach so deeply inside his soul. _If I told you..._

 

_What then?_ The way she interrupted him, almost angrily, tugged at him. He wanted to tell her. It was so very wrong, and he pulled his gaze away from hers – agonizingly slowly, her eyes too deep, too captivating – and stepped past her, into her room, towards the balcony that promised a breeze of fresh air.

 

He did not step out onto the balcony, remained hidden behind a pillar, always in the shadow. It was enough to see the expanse of the lake, the hills far off in the distance, the crystal clear reflection of the moon on the calm water. Vague memories of long gone nights spent beneath the night sky, watching the quiet waves of the sea flooded his mind. He had been a different man back then.

 

_Killian Jones._

 

Long years had passed since he had last uttered the name, had thought it drowned with the body of the woman he had loved. For so long he had believed that man had died with her. Only now, standing in the royal chambers with the intention to kill did the flicker of hope begin to glimmer that that man might still be hidden somewhere within.

 

Her steps were quiet as she approached him, and he could hear that she was barefoot, even though her nightgown had hidden that fact from his view. A warmth spread across his back, shivers running down his spine as she stood right behind him. _You were a sailor._

 

_How do you know?_

 

_Because you smell like the sea._ Her breath was warm and damp as she whispered into his ear, causing him to shiver once more. She smelled like flowers, sweet, mingled with the tangy scent he had smelled so many nights outside her door.

 

_That was long ago._ It was a sigh, filled with remorse. He had lost the sea when he had lost himself.

 

She stepped around him, still too close, the warmth of her body penetrating the thick leather shielding him from the world. _You do not look much older than I am._ The curiosity in her voice reminded him of her innocence, of the pointlessness of his assignment.

 

_Looks are deceiving, always remember that, milady._

 

_My name is Emma._ She stood in front of him once more, out in the open of the balcony, not granting him any more of the view of the dark night. _Yet nobody calls me that._

 

_Nobody calls me Killian, either._

 

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, the soft breeze outside dancing through Emma's hair. Against his better judgment, he reached out his good hand, mimicking her movement from last night, only to trace a long curl of her hair with the tip of his finger. Like silk it slipped through his fingers. There was a hitch in her breathing.

 

_What happened to your hand?_ Her eyes flickered to his hook, to the weapon that was meant to pierce her heart. Perhaps she _was_ brave, he thought as her gaze lingered there, not afraid, not disgusted. Curious.

 

_Someone took it._

 

For another moment he watched her eyes follow the curve of his hook before she looked up at him again. _I am sorry._

 

_So am I._ He had no clue what he was apologizing for. That the Crocodile took his hand? That he had lost the woman he loved? That he was now here, sent to kill her for no good reason? That nobody called her by her name?

 

_I do not understand how you could have taken all those lives._ The lack of fear from what he had done seemed unsettling, yet he knew his doubts were merely scratching the surface of who she was. _You do not seem..._

 

Emma's words trailed off into the silence of the night, and he picked up where she left, not knowing where to go and what to say, and most certainly why she was still alive and he here, with her. _There are too many things we do not understand. And life almost never makes sense. It certainly is never fair. You have done nothing wrong. Yet you are meant to die._

 

Open, clear eyes dug deeply into his. _So, my life is in your hand._ The warm of her fingers as she reached out to capture his hand, still lingering around her shoulder. _What do you do now?_

 

Their fingers entwined, and with a sharp intake of breath, he pulled, crushing her against his chest. _Do not think I don't understand this game you are playing._ The voice had turned into a hiss once more, her eyes narrowing as she inspected his. _It is a dangerous one._

 

For a moment he thought the rules of their game had been revealed, but then her clever fingers, reached up, and with once sharp movement, his scarf fell to the floor. _Is it?_ The gaze that scanned his face was white hot, causing his throat to lock up, air failing to flood his lungs until she released him, taking a step back. _I don't think you are as dangerous as you think you are._

 

_Your Highness-_ The mocking tone of his voice was silenced by her determination.

 

_Emma. I told you._ Undoing her own work, she stepped closer again, until he could feel the dampness of her breath against his cheek. _My name is Emma._ What it was about her that petrified him, he could not tell. Still, he moved not an inch when her hand crept beneath his coat to slide up his chest. _What-_ Abruptly, she stopped, genuine wonder marking her features as she looked up. _Your heart. It's not beating._

 

_It is._ His fingers curled more tightly around hers. _Just not in here._

 

_Someone took your heart?_ She whispered the words in horror, but the moment of honesty did not last long. Quickly, she restored the mask that she carried so well, her features set in stone.

 

_Aye._

 

_That is why you..._ He knew she wanted to say _kill_ , and it would be a lie that his own thoughts had not traveled down the line. The truth, as painful as it was to admit, was that he had no clue how much control _she_ truly had over him, how much power it gave _her_ to have locked up his heart in a chest controlled by a key.

 

_You can choose to believe that. I don't know._

 

It was there again, her curiosity. The siren disappearing once more into a mist of innocence. _Do you feel anything? Without you heart?_

 

Hesitation dragged out his breathing, her face too close, her spirit clawing at his soul. _I feel pain._

 

Time seemed to stand still. They simply looked into each others eyes, breaths mingling. When she started to move, his breath hitched. Closer and closer did she lean into him, her hand stoking up from where his heart had once been to his now exposed neck. _What are you doing?_

 

_Playing the game._ The whisper was filled with determination, the wicked grin back to contort her features. _Do you feel this?_ And then her soft lips pressed against his neck, a million strokes of lightening shooting through his system.

 

He was lost then, completely and utterly drowning in her like a shipwrecked sailor. His hand dropped hers to roughly grab her waist, the curve of his hook pressing into the small of her back as he pulled her closer. Her breath was warm against his prickling skin, and when she looked up at him with a glint in her eyes that burned like fire, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

 

Their lips crashed together with so much force that his back hit the pillar, her lithe body curving around his. She was as greedy as he was, parting her lips, bruising his, tongue darting out to run along the sharp line of his teeth. Cold fingers curled into his hair, pulling him down towards her, a groan escaping his lips. They barely parted enough to breathe, airless moans and whimpers filling the silence. Closer and closer did he pull her, her hips angling into his.

 

When she pressed against him, he could not help but free his lips from hers, groaning against the soft but chapped skin, diving back in almost immediately, like a starving man. She sighed against his skin, hands almost desperately curled around his neck to pull him closer. The sounds she made, the shivers they sent down his spine, it was all too much. His hips bucked against hers, the white hot heat it sent through his body like fuel.

 

Almost violently, he buried his fingers in her hair, angling her head back, holding back the urge to turn her around and reverse their position.

 

Her lips were angry, teeth sinking into his skin, not enough to draw blood, but painful enough for his hold on her waist to tighten, for his hips to move quicker, for a husky moan to escape his lips.

 

It was as if she tried to crawl into his skin, eating him alive with no sign of mercy. It was not enough, not when his hand moved across her exposed collarbone to feel her shiver even more, not when she hooked one of her legs around his to increase friction, not when her short fingernails scratched along the nape of his neck. It was not enough, and he had to pull back before the heady lust that pulsed in his veins took over.

 

This was wrong.

 

Greed was dominant, and he leaned in to deepen the kiss for just another few second before he pulled away, breathless, needing to hold her back as she moved in to resume what he had ended. They were still close, their foreheads touching, almost intimately as their ragged breathing began to calm down.

 

_Are you going to kill me now?_ For the first time, there was nothing but fear in her voice, all walls broken down.

 

It had been rough and quick, but when he moved his hand to cup her cheek, flushed and warm, it was suddenly tender. _No._

 

Her nose bumped against his, and his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. It was still too much, she was too much. _Why?_

 

_I don't know._ It was the truth. It was more than he could bear. _But I must go._

 

The urge to lean in and brush his lips against hers once more, to feel the softness and the eagerness, was painful, yet he stepped away from her with all the determination he had.

 

_Will I see you again?_

 

He turned to look her, standing against the silver light of the moon. _I don't know. You must tell your parents that you are in danger. They must protect you._ Her hair was a mess, golden curls wild and unruly, cheeks blood red, eyes dark. Filled with sadness. As if he had infected her with his own. _But I... I am a threat. I can not guarantee what I will... How much control I have._

 

For the first time since his heart had been ripped out of his chest, he noticed the emptiness it had left behind.

 

_So you never wanted to kill?_ There was so much hope in her voice, as if the man she was facing, the man he was, was not real, that a better one hid behind the blood-smeared facade.

 

_I never said that._ The line of false hope was one he had too long walked along, one that had pulled him into an abyss of disappointment and despair. Never would he want her to follow the same path.

 

_You must find your heart. Please._ She made a step forward, and in return, he moved closer to the door. If he did not leave now, he knew he would lose what little of his heart was still there, present, in his control.

 

_Goodbye, Emma._

 

Yet again, he slipped out of her room, turning into the shadow that roamed the empty corridors of the castle.

 

.

 

_Killian._ Her voice was broken, tears trailing down her cheeks. He looked at her, kneeling by his side, blood coating her own hands and she grabbed him, his rapidly beating heart wrapped in the fingers of her free hand.

 

It was his own voice he could barely find, the weight of hook suddenly pulling him down. Blood. Torn skin. _I love you._


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, because I am such a gentle soul *cough* I find it very hard not to give in to kind words, so… This is mostly to be blamed on keepcalmwearetimeless, talking me into this in the first place and therefor probably ruining my exam next week because I spent the time I needed to study writing this. But anyway, I did enjoy it. And this is not a multi-chapter. I repeat: **_not_** a multi-chapter.

You've seen this all before  
Life left on the shore  
We're smiling all the same  
You sail away again

 

**dead in the water by ellie goulding**

 

He fought it, fought it for days and nights that turned into weeks and months, stretched thinly before him like a shadow that could not survive in the darkness. Too much of him ached for her, for her touch and, most of all, her safety. Something pulled him towards her, something too strong, tasting like a reminder of things past.

 

An echo of the heart that had once pulsed in his chest, that had lived and loved until the day it had been broken, torn, ripped from his chest to be locked away.

 

For months he roamed the realm, hidden beneath trees and wandering through villages and towns as a mere stranger, one more lost soul slipping through the cracks. His hook always buried within the depths of his satchel, hidden away from curious eyes.

 

He waited. Waited for _her_ wrath to track him down, to drop dead on the spot as she crushed his heart into dust from the distance of her wicked chamber. The Queen. His life at her mercy, and her mercy the one he had crushed when he had walked away from Emma, had given her the opportunity to scream her lungs out shortly after he had slipped out of her room, had given her time to make up a story about a masked man threatening to kill her. All across the kingdom, the story was told over and over again, of their young princess trapped in peril, sheltered now and shielded, hidden away from the world to keep her safe.

 

The story was told so often that eventually there was no telling what had truly transpired, what lies she had woven to protect herself and him, his moniker never mentioned, not even a hint of any involvement on his part. Whatever trust she had in him, whatever man she had seen, he could not see it himself.

 

Too many times did he catch himself staring at his reflection in milky mirrors and upset waters, the man before him burdened with a locked jaw, dark shadows and an emptiness behind blue eyes that reached the bottom of the sea.

 

It was not his impending death that scared Killian, that filled him with shadows and darkness. It was the fact that he was still _alive_ , still roaming the endless forests and sad towns of the realm. That his heart was still beating somewhere. The Queen knew of his failure, yet had spared him the ultimate punishment. It was not in her nature to be forgiving, and he feared of what twisted plan she was spinning in her lonely mind. One that required him alive.

 

Rarely did he find enough rest to sleep, and when he did, it was Emma's face that haunted him. Smeared in blood, eyes wide open in shock as the life drained from her. Too many times had he looked upon dying faces, had soaked up the last drop of life left to banish the cruel imagery. What he longed for was the warmth of her touch, the soft smile that played around the chapped lines of her lips, the melodic sound of her soothing voice.

 

When he had left her behind, the goal had been simple. Getting away as far from her as possible, putting too much distance in between for the violence embedded in his veins to take over and drive him into her arms once more, with blood red rage. After that, he had wandered the world without a goal, from town to town, until he slowly came to recognize the pattern behind his every step.

 

One large circle, his feet slowly but steadily carrying him back towards her.

 

-

 

When he looked upon the high walls of the castle again, summer was old and weary.

 

-

 

His feet touched the cold stone floor without even a muffled sound, as quiet as the night air, and before he dared to look up at the room that lay behind the balcony, he removed his hook, resting the polished metal curve on top of the woven balustrade.

 

Sighing as it reflected the moonlight – in his eyes, all there ever shone on it was blood – he turned, long white curtains dancing in the late summer breeze, hiding the room from his view. Hesitatingly, he stepped closer, his throat constricting painfully. An endless list of everything he should be doing clouded his mind, yet the nameless pull inside his chest urged him to keep walking, to not slide back over the balustrade and climb down the side of the tower, to drown himself in the deep waters, to find a way to leave this world, to run his own hook into his heart.

 

His leather-clad hand caught hold of one of the curtains, intricate blue stars woven into the soft fabric, almost lost to his eyes in the dim moonlight. Slowly, he moved it aside, floating in his fingers as if it were not there at all. The room lay quiet before him, the curtains on the canopy bed pulled aside, sheltered only barely from the breeze, tickling the blue pattern of the heavy rug. Across from it, a vanity table stood, scattered with small tins, decorate in jewels, pearls, gold and silver, bits and pieces of a life he had no insight in. A large mirror stretched across the wall, moving into a large wardrobe, made from the trunk of one tree. A pale yellow gown hang on it, pearls glistening whenever a ray of light sought them out.

 

There was an armchair standing close to the arch that gave way to the balcony, a soft sandy color, inviting, scattered with bright, embroidered pillows. The small glass table next to it, a shade of blue as clear as the summer sky, was loaded with books, some brand new, some so old and worn that singular pages peaked out from the leather bound frames.

 

Tall ivory candle holders stood throughout the room, the lights now dead while the smell of smoke faintly lingered. Only a single flame flickered still, a small white candle on the bedside table, sheltered by a crystal bowl, its fine lines to grant air forming a night sky against the colorful ceiling of the room.

 

Killian wondered how much time Emma had spent in here in the past months, locked away from the perils that awaited her outside the walls of the castle. How many books she had devoured, promising her adventures in faraway lands. How many time had her fingers smoothed out crinkles in her gowns and how many candles had burned down since he had left?

 

His eyes came to rest upon her eventually, long tresses of her spread across the small mount of pillows, bare leg peaking out from beneath the thin cover than sheltered her from what little cold this night bore. It was not right to intrude, to watch her without her knowledge like he had done months earlier, when he had assessed her weaknesses.

 

 _Emma._ His voice was loud enough to be heard through the thick layers of sleep, yet too quiet for anyone past the walls of the room to raise a brow. When she merely stirred, a soft whimper against laced fabric echoing through the room, he stepped closer, could almost touch her bare arms if only he reached out his hand. _Emma, wake up._

 

She turned then, her eyes fluttering open ever so slowly for a few seconds, her hair tousled and hiding most of her beautiful face from his eyes.

 

It took her not long to realize that something was wrong, that it had not been the breeze of the wind or the far away cry of a seagull to rip her out of her dreams. Her eyes shot wide open and she scrambled her long limbs into a sitting position. He could almost hear the faint echo of the scream that formed in the back of her throat, before the shock in her eyes softened and her lips parted in disbelief and realization.

 

 _Killian._ His name left her lips in a sigh, sounding so utterly genuine, as if the weight of the wretched world had been lifted off her innocent shoulders. Hate burned in his bones that she had to suffer this fate.

 

_Emma._

 

She moved to sit on her knees, her hair falling down the front of her body in a waterfall of gold, curiosity shining in her deep eyes. _How did you get in here?_

 

 _Your guards, they must keep an eye on the walls of the castle._ His eyes flickered back towards the balcony, where he knew he should be, climbing back down, throwing his hook into the depths of the water below. _Not just protect you from within._

 

Emma's eyes flickered with a distant shadow of fear, and he longed to find the warmth inside of him to comfort her, the trust in himself to protect her. Hardly could he imagine her pain and fright over the last months. _You climbed all the way?_

 

He might be the most notorious in the realm, yet he knew he was not the only assassin skilled enough to climb the slippery walls of the tower. _It is not as much of a challenge as you might think._ His foolish feet carried him a step closer, until his knees bumped into the wooden frame of her bed.

 

Emma looked at him for a short moment, taking in the features of his face, obscured by the darkness and dim flicker of the flame, unprotected by the scarf he had worn before, each scar and line bared for her to drink in. _You mustn't stay long._ Behind the whisper, there hid a longing, almost a sadness at her own words, and she moved a little closer, until her face was even with his, nothing but a few inches between them. _The guards, they send in my maid to check in on me every hour or so._ Her scent lingered, filling his nostrils, and he silently vowed to inhale it until it burned itself into his brain, so as long as he never had to go another day without it.

 

 _I know. Hesitantly,_ he reached out his good hand, the cold leather of his glove finding its place against the red-tinted swell of her cheek. _I needed to see you._ Her eyelids fluttered, long lashes tickling soft skin. _I had to make sure you are safe._

 

Emma stayed immobile, nothing moving but her eyes, carefully taking him in, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath she took. _You risked your life for me._

 

Killian smiled bitterly. _Offering that is not very hard when you have nothing to lose._

 

His words seemed to ooze with as much pain as he felt uttering them, Emma's face falling. Calmly, she raised one of her hands, slipping beneath his coat, finding its position against the hollow pit of his chest. _It's still not beating._ A tremble in her voice that caused him to swallowed heavily, looking down into her eyes, the constant pull to see her, feel her, now almost unbearable.

 

 _There is no way to retrieve it, sweetheart._ She closed her eyes, her hand slipping down until she could wrap it around his hips, her cheek coming to rest against his chest with a heavy sigh. He shivered when his hookless arm came to rest against her back, feeling the gentle ridges of her spine through the thin silk of her nightgown. To hold her, to know her safe, it was more than he had dared to dream. He needed to cherish this moment, needed to memorize the softness of her hair as he rested his chin atop her head, the even rise and fall of her chest against his as she breathed.

 

 _But you must._ The determination in her voice scared him, too much hope lingering behind the three short words.

 

With all his might, and against his every wish, he gently pushed her away from him, only far enough to meet her gaze. _Why are you not calling the guards to have me arrested?_

 

She smiled. Smiled up at him so genuinely, yet with so much sadness that he released a quivering breath, touching his forehead to hers. _Because you'd be hanged, hanged before dawn._ There were tears in her eyes, and Killian understood nothing anymore, not his own thoughts, and the least of all, her's. _I can not let that happen, not when you were never to blame for your actions._

 

He could barely process her words before her soft lips pressed against his, releasing a soft sigh that spoke infinite tales of months gone by without a sign of hope. _You should be afraid of me._ The whisper and warmth of his words against her lips did not seem to reach her, for she only increased the strength of her caresses, moving her other arm to allow her hand to rest against his neck. _You should mistrust me._ When her tongue escaped from the cave of her mouth, daringly drawing lines against his, it required all his strength to hold back the groan that gathered in his throat. How many tales had been told of curses broken like this, by kisses as strong and deep as this one. He felt as if a curse was lifted from him, felt the slow throbbing of happiness begin to shine in his veins, a dark veil lifting, memories of the man he had once been flooding his mind.

 

Her delicate fingers tangled in the strands of his hair, pulling him closer gingerly, their breaths mingling as he opened his eyes. She was a marvel, eyes closed, lashes leaving intricate shadows on her pearly skin.

 

With each warm fan of breath that dampened his skin, he found his good hand coming to life, slowly trailing up her forearm, cherishing the shiver that ruptured throughout her entire body when he danced across the crease of her elbow and up towards her shoulder.

 

He remembered brass buttons and blue coats, white flags and ancient maps, loaded with secrets all men desired to solve. While none of these memories had ever been truly lost, it was only now in Emma's arms that their joy began to wash over him once more, not drowned by the sadness that echoed from their shadows.

 

She moaned deep in her throat when his hand brushed her collarbone and across the exquisite expanse of her neck. The sound set his insides on fire, suddenly aware of the warmth of her body, the thin barrier that was her gown, the way her fingertips scraped against his skull, the flat palm that pressed against the small of his back to pull him closer towards her.

 

 _I must leave._ He murmured against her lips, the effort it required to articulate the words almost as harrowing as it was to part from her. Their lips hovered above each other, neither of them willing to let go of the moment they shared, of the warmth that spread through their limbs. A glow, almost like the sun soaked up in a single vile, all its healing powers and joy assembled in this one touch.

 

 _Come back tomorrow night._ Killian felt a shiver run down his spine like needles at the hoarse sound of her voice, her eyes clouded when she looked at him hopefully. _Please._

 

 _I can not promise._ What could he ever promise her? Had granting her her life been enough for her to blow life into the crumbled past that he hid so well? He wanted to grant her every wish, if only there ever was a way to repay her. Yet, he knew there was no person less capable of offering her anything, when he could not even guarantee to make it back to her side the following night. It was all he needed.

 

 _Let me help you._ There was a plea behind the offer, her voice so low and trembling, like sand dusting across a beach at the slightest breeze. Both of her soft palms found his face, framing it, gentle thumbs drawing circles beneath his eyes, as if she was trying to erase the dark shadows that would never fade.

 

Once more his lips brushed against hers, greedily, the mere thought of letting this moment slip through his fingers as painful as flames lapping his skin. _You can't._ The image of his heart, grotesquely red and glowing, as the Queen had torn it from his chest, the indescribable pain as she had begun to squeeze it to torture him even more, all of it began to wash over him, the hollow ache in his chest all that remained. For the first time in all these years, he longed to feel it beating in his chest again, to have Emma's soft hand trail across his bare chest and feel the even drumming.

 

 _Killian._ She clung to him, and he could not find the words to comprehend or describe why. Instead, he smiled at her, the movement pulling almost painfully at the corners of his mouth, his lips tired and all the muscles aching from the almost forgotten movement.

 

Softly, he pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead, the rush of his own thoughts not loud enough to drown the whimper that slipped past her lips when he stepped away. _Dream of better times than this, Emma._

 

The fear of not being able to part was too strong, and so he turned without another look at her face. Silently, he stepped back outside, the glow of the moon almost blinding him. For a minute, he stood perfectly still, feeling the air rushing in and out of his lungs, before he determinedly grabbed the hook that still lay upon the stone balustrade.

 

When he swung his legs into nothingness, his hand holding on tightly to the stone walls, he faintly heard bare feet moving against cool stone, and before he could look upon her again, he began his descent, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

 

-

 

Memories of her touch still burned beneath his skin, eating him from the inside as he hurried through the line of trees. His legs felt numb, exhaustion beginning to burn in his muscles. Instead of slowing down, he kept pushing his feet further, faster.

 

Eventually, his breathing became too ragged, each breath like poison pouring down his lungs, and he caught himself against the stump of a large tree. Violently, he drove the sharp tip of his hook into the wood, screaming silently into the night.

 

_Well, well. If that isn't the Captain himself._


	3. part three

The iron shackles around his bare arms dug into his skin, red lines forming where he struggled. Coldness seeped into his bones, the icy stones that darkened the dungeon biting into his back. He paid no mind to the shackles around his feet, his legs numb, barely registering the cold.

 

_Is this the man you saw, your Highness?_ He did not dare to look up at her, afraid of what he might see. A lie upon her delicate features would save his life, but at what cost? The cost of honesty and innocence, one he wished dearly for her not to pay. Yet, for her to speak the truth, to see him for the man he was, a murderer, it might tear him apart, even before they would lead him to his certain death.

 

Instead of looking up, all he was left to do was to follow the hem of her lilac gown, laced with embroidery around the seam that glowed in the ominous dance of flames cast from the single torch.

 

_No._ It all shattered, everything she was and even more so, everything he wanted her to be, needed her to be. Everything he wanted to protect her from, it all came rushing in, a tidal wave he had no power to keep at bay now.

 

In his peripheral vision, he could see the two guards tensing. _Are you quite sure, darling?_ Her mother's voice echoed within the small room, too warm and soothing for a dark and hopeless place like this.

 

_I am._ His eyes flickered up then, briefly, unable to look down any longer. With a burning ravening the back of his throat, all he could do was meet her gaze, see the despair and fear glistening in her eyes, the distorted reflection of the fire. _This is not him._

 

Almost instantly, rough hands pulled him onto his numb feet, the shackles on them causing him to sway. _Looks like your lucky day, lad._ For a mere second, he looked upon Emma, the way her lips quivered, the raise of her throat as she swallowed, before her mother gently steered her towards the heavy iron door.

 

The loud clang of the shackles dropping onto the stone ground lingered as she turned the corner, nothing but a hint of her scent remaining.

 

.

 

The smell of summer rain lay heavily upon the world, soft, warm droplets glistening on the pitch black strands of his hair. His coat almost shone in the moonlight, covered in raindrops, the sky opening more and more with each inch he climbed up the slippery wall of the castle.

 

He wanted to let go, throw himself down into the abyss, the raging depths of the water that would welcome him, finally, after too many years he did not deserve. Instead, he felt he was making an even greater mistake. He should never have come back, should have found a quiet and lonely corner of the kingdom to wait until the Queen found him and decided to end his wretched life.

 

Throwing his legs across the balustrade, the hook embedded securely between the stones that made the castle as strong as it was, he felt the weight of his decision to return heavily upon his shoulders. He was destroying her, step by step. And along with her, he was drowning.

 

Hurried footsteps caught his attention, yet he neither flinched nor retreated, recognizing the sound of bare feet against cold stone immediately. It was only a moment before she rushed through the open arch onto the balcony that he removed the hook from the contraption that tied it to him, leaving it behind once more on the balustrade.

 

Heat crept up his spine when he saw Emma standing beneath the stone arch, white nightgown dancing around her legs in the wind, bare feet touching the wet ground, long hair flowing around her shoulders and cascading down her back. Her cheeks were tinted red, flushed so intensely that he felt the need to follow the heat down across her collarbone and beneath the thin fabric of her gown. It was the way she looked at him that sealed his fate, when, until now, he simply could have turned around to leave, leave her behind, set her free.

 

There was a longing in her eyes he had not seen in too long, affection and hope coming together in the green pools she had directed at him, and nothing but him.

 

_You came._ Her whisper was almost inaudible as the rain continued to drum heavier and heavier, dripping down his nose, the splashing on the ground soaking her dress, turning it transparent enough so that he could make our her ankles and calves. _I was waiting for you._

 

_You should not be waiting for me._ Regardless of his words, he began to step towards her, noticing the slight tremble of her arms. _The guards, they still were not watching the tower._

 

Emma reached out her arm, the cool tips of her fingers finding his palm, trailing delicate patterns there before entwining their fingers. He never stopped walking, slowly leading her back inside her room, away from the slight cold, away from himself as his treacherous body moved him closer.

 

Her face was too close, their breaths mingling, and Killian felt as if she was breathing the life back into him. _I never told them to. I wanted to see you again._ It was all foolish and he could not understand why she was not afraid, why she trusted in him when he could not trust himself. What it was that she saw that remained hidden from his own eyes.

 

It was Emma who stopped his stance, planting her feet so firmly on the ground that his body pressed against hers. Raindrops soaking her gown, his eyes flickering to where they touched, to the skin that was exposed.

 

He deserved nothing, and she gave him so much more. Gave him so much she did not even realize, or so he thought when she leaned up to cup his cheek in her free hand, the soft touch too gentle, too careful, almost loving. Her thumb traced his cheekbone, the tip of her ring finger resting just beneath the lobe of his ear, shivers erupting all over his skin. His eyes closed, the feeling of her touch, the scent of her, the even rhythm of her breathing, the mere presence of her too much for his heartless body to handle.

 

Perhaps, for a small moment before her lips brushed against his and took his breath away, he began to understand, a flicker of realization piercing his chest like a poisoned arrow. He wished so dearly for his heart, to look upon her face without shame and wrap her in his arms on a warm day in spring, to fall onto his knees and grow old, to fall in love with her the way he had only been granted once before.

 

It was not to be, no beat drumming inside the cavity of his chest. All he could do was wrap his arm around her to pull her even closer against him, hoping desperately that she could crawl beneath his skin and fill him with the life he could not give her in return.

 

_After tonight, you must tell them._ The warning was whispered in the brief second their lips parted, air sucked into lungs desperately. To protect her meant to never see her again, to burn down the one bridge they had to be together.

 

Emma gave him no response, nothing but the press of her body against his as she curled her fingers around the damp hair at the base of his skull, pulling him closer, pulling herself upwards, each curve of her body sinking into his. She was warm and soft and when he reluctantly untangled their fingers to trail his hand up and down her spine, she shivered in his arms.

 

Her own hand slipped beneath his coat once more, this time avoiding the space where his heart did not beat. Quick fingers worked on the buttons of his vest, his mind too focused on her soft lips so urgently meeting his own, warm tongue tracing his, too occupied to stop her. When her palm spread across the bare skin of his chest, the warmth that radiated off her poured directly into the emptiness of his being.

 

With a sharp intake of breath, he parted from her, eyes drifting towards where her hand rested against him. It was as if his heart was beating inside of him once more, warmth and a soft glow spreading throughout his veins. Their eyes met, so much gentleness and softness in hers that his world shattered by another piece. Like glass, falling, falling until it crushed into millions of shards, like stars fallen from the sky.

 

_Emma._ It sounded nothing like him. Soft, vulnerable. He could barely form the word, all sense forgotten. She smiled up at him, almost with too much joy, as if she knew what she was doing to him.

 

When she opened her mouth to speak, Killian swallowed her words quickly, diving in for another kiss, her surprised gasp turning into a moan when his hand came to rest against her belly, the thin gown sticking to his palm as he spread his fingers wide, feeling her ragged breathing beneath his touch.

 

In the back of his head, a small and sad voice told him to tear his lips away from hers before he was set on fire, before all his sanity was washed away in favor of the spark of hope she had ignited in him. Yet, instead of allowing his sanity to lead him, he felt his legs move once more, Emma's hand on his chest steering him slowly yet determinedly across her room, her lips brushing across his once more before finding the line of his jaw.

 

He buried his nose in the long, golden tresses of her hair, drinking in her scent, a low groan forming deeply in his throat as she feather-lightly kissed the point where his jaw met his ear. She was a flame, and he burned at her touch, burned to life, not to death. His own lips began to trail down her throat, long and exquisite, soft skin as pale as the moon itself. The small whimper he coaxed from her fueled him even further, steadily away from the right course.

 

Too vividly, he remembered many nights on the lonely sea, stars hidden behind maleficent dark clouds, the tempest settling not only above the world but his heart, as well, threatening to lead him into hell itself. This, right now, as Emma let go off him to sit on the edge of her canopy bed, felt just alike. Out of his control.

 

Whatever life she could pour into him for a brief moment of joy, it was not – would never be – enough to balance the darkness and emptiness of his life. He had saved her, and when she wrapped her hands around his chest to pull him against her, it felt as if she was attempting to save him in return. Save the man she saw, slowly retrieved behind the facade of the man he had become.

 

To drown in her seemed like the most peaceful way to part. He could not, however, pull her under with him.

 

Beneath him, Emma shivered, the cold drops of rain that still sprinkled his coat and the soaked fabric of her nightgown providing no shelter from the slight breeze that the storm had brought on. Killian placed one last searing kiss against the side of her neck, her blood pumping furiously beneath the delicate skin, before he sat on his knees, shredding himself of the heavy leather coat. It fell to the floor silently.

 

For the first time since she had stepped into the moonlight, he took her in fully, the shape of her hips as her nightgown clung damply to her skin, the dip of her navel, chest rising and falling raggedly. White fabric hugging her thighs, and she opened them as he leaned down, hand resting between her breasts to feel the drumming of her heart.

 

_Who are you really?_ She had asked him before, and he had allowed her in for a brief moment, had granted her access to a place deep within himself he usually kept locked away from himself, almost forgotten. This time, it was different. She spoke softly, whispered the words against his neck as he kissed a line from her ear to where her neck spread into her shoulder. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, her breathing labored and the flush he had admired earlier continuing to spread. _Why are you so sad?_

 

Instead of an answer, his lips found the place his hand had rested upon before, pressing them between the swell of her breasts, right upon her heart, as if he could pour his secrets into her just as she had granted him a moment of life.

 

_You have lost someone, haven't you?_ There was a slight hitch in her voice when he rested his cheek against her chest, closed his eyes, breathing in time with her. _Someone you loved._

 

Her hands were still buried in his hair, and she moved gently now, less urgent. It soothed the agonizing memories her words had sparked, the way her fingers smoothed out stray strands and dried what the rain had soaked.

 

_You were not always like this._ She moved ever so slightly beneath him, her right leg raising to tangle with his. _Sad. Swallowed in darkness._

 

_Emma._ Her name was muffled, Killian's throat constricted, unwilling to utter any words as long their faces danced behind his eyes. Dying in his arms, holding on to him as the life drained away, slowly, painfully, until he was the last one left, all alone.

 

A lonely, salty tear trailed down his cheek and dropped onto her gown, soaked up along with the raindrops, and he feared that he might break apart at her touch, panicked, scrambling onto his elbows to mute the words that threatened to slip past her lips.

 

Almost like a tidal wave, their lips met, tongues clashing, Emma's hands moving to wrap around his chest, pulling him against her. His good hand came to clutch at her hip, keeping her writhing body still, using it as leverage to keep himself at bay, away from her as far as their closeness allowed.

 

_You're afraid to talk._ How she murmured the words against his fiery lips, he did not know. They sank underneath his skin like venom, setting him aflame, turning him into a statue of glass, open for her to see. More urgently, he pressed his lips to hers, until he could barely breathe, began to see stars in the darkness behind his closed eyes. _To reveal yourself._ His hand could no longer hold her at bay, her hips rising as his lips found her pulse point, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth. _To trust me._ He mirrored her movement, pressing himself against her, letting her spin her web around him. _But you can._ If only she knew how much he trusted her, how little he trusted himself. _You can trust me._ He groaned against the crook of her neck when their hips locked, her nightgown keeping hidden nothing of her warmth, her own moan echoing in his ears until he tore his eyes open to look at her, helpless and lost at her hands.

 

Her eyes were hooded, meeting his gaze in a hazy and foggy mist that enveloped them both, hands fumbling with the vest she had undone earlier, fighting to push it past his shoulders. When her fingers met the contraption secured around his shoulder, she hesitated. Slowly, almost curiously, her fingers trailed along the seam of it, catching on metal clasps.

 

_I never thought I could feel again._ The words came rushing out of his mouth against his will. Looking at her, her fingers so gentle and curious, her entire being bared for him to take in, a matter of trust so deep he felt pain where nothing existed that could feel pain. _Feel the way I used to once._ The words, the thoughts, the realization behind them had dragged him down, forming into a secret he no longer had the strengthen to keep by himself. _That is until I met you._

 

For a moment, nothing but absolute silence filled the space between them. Their eyes locked, two souls bare and raw.

 

Emma pulled him down then, without another word, lips meeting more chastely now, feather-lightly brushing against each other, filled with unspoken promises and aches.

 

_I must leave._ Killian uttered the words with the utmost strain, every fiber in his body driving him closer to her, his hand curling into the soaked dress, lips pressing against her skin wherever he could reach. Emma's head shook ever so slightly, her hips pressing up against his once more, his groan one with her sigh.

 

There was little fight left in him, white heat coiling at the base of his spine, urging him closer towards her, telling him to feel her bare skin beneath his calloused palm and swollen lips. _Come back, please._ She did not beg, yet the longing in her voice was enough to tear at him.

 

_No._ It surprised him how unsteady such a short word could be muttered, his eyes shut, avoiding the hurt he knew would spread across her flushed features. _I can't, darling_. He moved then, back onto his knees, his body screaming as her warmth faded into the bitter cold of loneliness. _You must tell the guards to watch the tower._

 

The sound of her moving, sheets ruffling as she scrambled to her own knees, none of it was enough to hide the desperate sound of their breathing. _But you won't be-_

 

_Promise me._ It was all he knew, the harsh words, staring at her intently, deeply into her green eyes, eyes that had been so soft. If he had to give his life for them never to turn to stone, he should give it gladly. _Emma, please._

 

If this were to be the last time he got granted the chance to look upon her, to touch her, he wanted the shape the memory into a marble, round and smooth, no jagged edges to cause them pain fr the rest of their days. His hand reached out to brush away the trail of a tear down her soft cheek, thumb catching the corner of her mouth, longing to see her smile. Y _ou can not take the chance that you're wrong about me, darling_. Lips found her forehead, lingered there, leaving behind a mark, he knew, his soul staying behind as he stood up from the bed, away from her. _So, promise me._

 

_I promise._ A whisper. Broken, just as he was. All along, he had known that he could only pull her down with him. It felt as if he cut off his remaining hand when he tore his eyes away from her, picked up his coat and rushed towards the arch that gave way to the dark night. _Find a way back._ His feet betrayed him and stopped at her quiet words, but he would not dare turning around. Too sure was he that he could not stay true to her, that he would sink whatever joy still lingered within her. _Come back to me._ Her words now mingled with the rain, and his hand trembled as he ignored her words. _Find me._


	4. part four

**part four**

 

He twisted his hook within the bark of the tree as his angry words drifted into the silence of the forest. There was a curious smile around the edges of her lips, and he cursed her for all it was worth.

 

_But you got to live. And now I can help you get what you want._

 

She knew, had known all along. The possibility of her words, of what they promised, of what she had promised before, it all washed over him and mingled with the fading memories of Emma's touch.

 

_At what price?_

 

.

 

He was desperate, frantically searching for a way out, for the will to move his treacherous feet. What little of his sense remained already envisioned himself running off between the darkness of the trees and disappear, out of her sight, out of her mind if only he could.

 

The rain was pouring down from the sky relentlessly, in streams so cold and dark that they threatened to swallow him like the sea. Through all his layers of clothes he could feel the chilling cold, seeping down into his very bones until numbness spread across his body like a veil. One he could not hold back, one he could not fight.

 

Much like the way his eyes were glued to her, unable to move away, to stray even but a little from what he drank in. Long hair plastered to her face as the raindrops ran down her cheeks like a tidal wave of tears, soft lips turning into a faint blue, trembling, eyes wide open as long lashes caught drops of rain like diamonds. All the life seemed to had dried up in her, cold taking its place.

 

She stood still but for the trembling, arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging deeply into her arms, covered only by a thin gown, midnight blue, turning her into one with the forest that surrounded them.

 

He was trapped between thinking her careless and admiring her bravery. To sneak away from her guards and slip into the menacing darkness of the forest, all with the faint hope that he would wait for her between the tress. The days without her had lit a fire of fury inside his empty chest, and he wondered how he had gone months without looking upon her face, without being close enough to simply reach out and touch her soft skin, feel her body shiver beneath his touch, listen to the hitch of her breath and the even thrumming of her heart.

 

That she had lied to safe him had lit a light inside himself, just as it had killed what little hope he had had left for her.

 

 _What are you going to tell them when you return?_ Underneath the heavy downpour of rain, Killian could barely make out his own words, thinking them nothing but a hushed whisper in her ears. Yet, she responded, her eyes lightening up as he finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen over them the moment she had stumbled out from between the trees, right in front of him. Soaked to the bone, shivering, lost, and so very foolish.

 

It seemed that, with each time they met, his resolve seemed to crumble, while her determination grew, like a black cloud swallowing up everything else, multiplying it, killing it, restoring it. He found no words, could only stare as she began to walk closer towards him. Barely a glimpse of light penetrated the canopy of the trees, yet he could make out the dip of her collarbone and the expanse of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest and the quiet, muffled sound her feet made against the muddy ground.

 

 _Who says I will return?_ She whispered the words, the calm expression on her face telling him more than a hundred books would ever be able to, told him how sure she was of herself and whatever it was that she held in her heart for him. A flame that now seemed to dance behind her green eyes, setting them on fire – setting him on fire.

 

She halted her slow, yet deliberate steps right in front of him, her flowing gown brushing against the brisk leather of his long coat. There was nothing but air between them, her face so close to his, the warmth that radiating off her despite the bone trembling chill, soaking into his pores. _I do._ He fought a losing battle to keep his hand down, fingers dancing uselessly against his side. _We both know you will._ She was becoming dangerous, and he found himself less capable of fighting her with each beat his heart did not make.

 

The implications of his words were heavier than the almost black clouds that send such masses of rain down onto the ground. He spoke out what they truly both knew, that this was impossible, that, even if he found a way to retrieve his heart, he would have to pay for his crimes. That even if he was being trialed mercifully, he would never see the light of day again. That even even if he did, he was nothing more than a very old pirate. Nothing she felt, nothing she ignited in him, nothing he could wish to feel for her would change that she was the heiress to her parents throne, a princess. He had not always been a pirate, yet even back than, centuries ago, they would never have had a future together.

 

Perhaps it was all too clear in his eyes, for the strength and determination in hers began to slowly fade away, her small hand coming up to cup his cheek, so tender against the roughness of his stubble, warming him, once more shooting that bright spark of hope through him. But even then, he had to admit, that the light was getting dimmer, and the hope less and less convincing.

 

He had not thought it possible, but Emma took another, one last, step forward, her lips now touching his, not kissing, merely brushing like the wing of a butterfly. _Just for a moment, can we pretend that I won't?_

 

The tremble in her voice resembled that of her every limb, and it was his undoing, arms suddenly filled with life as they wrapped themselves around her, as his lips came crashing against hers. He swallowed her surprised gasp, melted as it faded into a soft sigh. His hand grabbed the slick fabric of her gown in his fist, the hook he knew he should have thrown into the undergrowth digging into the side of her hip, pulling her closer.

 

Her hand grabbed his neck, fingernails digging so deep she almost tore the skin, but it would not have mattered. All that was on his mind now was the warmth of her body pressed against his, to hold her in his arms and if even for a brief moment, allow himself to imagine that he could hold her whenever he wanted, that it would be his privilege to look upon her for the rest of his days. A part of him, perhaps the hollow and lifeless one, ached for his heart to be crushed right now. To let Emma become the last person he ever looked upon, to die as she kissed him back. The mere thought was cruel, and he buried it deep down.

 

As her tongue slipped past his lips to meet hers, he knew she had felt him tense, wondered if she had heard his twisted thought. Her touch proofed to provide a cure, the warmth of her tongue dueling with his, and he heard an echo of his old self, that of a young man with so many dreams and ideals. Good form. Good form, indeed.

 

A groan escaped him, resonating deep in his chest as Emma wrapped herself even tighter around him, the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest, and there was no fighting it anymore. The hook dug deeper into her hip, a moan escaping her louder than before, echoing in his ears, and he pressed harder still, until he was sure he was hurting her. Instead, she crawled closer and closer, under his skin, her hand slipping from his neck towards his chest. Tortuously slow, fingers slipping beneath the unbuttoned fabric, pressing between his own skin and her breasts.

 

He had felt it before, the warmth that flowed through the empty cavity of his chest, the illusion of a heart beat, the illusion of tenderness. She was aware, he was sure. If she filled him with light, perhaps he did not fill her with as much darkness as he had feared.

 

They never parted longer than it took for them to breathe in a shuddering breath, lips fueled together as if the fire that filled them up had melted them into one.

 

The hook slipped from her hip into the dip at the small of her back the moment she pushed her hips forward, softness and warmth grinding against him, the slip of his handless arm an instinct, needing to pull her closer, to feel the white heat once more that had shot up his spine. His groan mingled with her moan, and he turned his head to the side with all the strength he could muster in order to break their kiss.

 

For a short moment, there was nothing. Neither of them breathed, nor did they move and inch. Then Killian's eyes fluttered open slowly, looking down at Emma, face flushed, lips swollen, her own gaze meeting his.

 

_You don't get to push me away now._

 

There was no more resistance in him when her words ebbed into silence, everything crumbled into dust. He pressed the hook into the small of her back with more force now, biting back another groan, marveling as her bottom lip was sucked between her teeth and her eyes fluttered shut. His hand trailed up the side of her body and across the tender expanse of her neck, until finally, he was able to twist the strands of her hair between his fingers as he leaned down to bury his head into her shoulder.

 

She sighed in his arms as his lips began to trail from her shoulder up towards her ear, nipping, trailing his tongue carefully, soaking up every small whimper. Her hands now both pushed against his chest, and he felt his skin setting aflame at the touch. Finger slipped beneath his vest once more, desperate apparently to feel his skin beneath hers.

 

Never once did he falter, keeping his own hips steady as she began to grind hers against them, the heat that burned him up almost too much to handle.

 

As his teeth began to close around the soft lobe of her ear, Emma shivering in his arms, his hand began to drop down towards her upper arm, holding it gently for a moment, perhaps to steady himself, he could not tell anymore. Everything was clouded, and he felt dizzy, as if the ground was being shaken beneath him. All that was steady was her, in his arms, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his vest.

 

His hand cupped the swell of her breast just as her soft palm slipped beneath his vest to rest upon his stomach. The sound that escaped the both of them echoed grotesquely between them, breathing ragged, and beneath it all, he could hear her murmuring his name.

 

Lightly, he squeezed, cursing under his breath for the gown that separated them, her hand on his stomach slowly moving lower. His eyes had closed, lips still trembling just barely above the skin where her neck met her shoulder, his mind focused on the softness of her palm and the dull ache inside of him that began to spread with each inch she moved, closer, always closer, yet never close enough.

 

 _Emma._ Her name escaped him as a husky whisper, his voice lost somewhere along the way, at the bottom of the sea, and he barely found the strength to move his hand, to let it slip beneath the silky hemline of her gown, to feel the warmth of her skin as she pushed herself closer against him with a raspy moan.

 

Her own lips had found his neck, trailing a line of kisses there, urgent, almost as demanding as her earlier ones had been. More and more, she pushed herself into his touch, her hand dangerously close to the waist of his trousers, fingertips toying there, feeling him quiver beneath her touch.

 

All at once, their breathing stopped altogether. Far off, they could both hear footsteps along the thick undergrowth, twigs breaking. Voices called, still too far to make out what they were saying. There was no need to.

 

She had run off, had disappeared into the forest to find him, and they were looking for her everywhere. What they had feared before, what it truly was that their future held for them, it now came shattering upon them like glass.

 

Killian pried his hand off her, began to push her away, when her hand clawed at his neck and pulled him down to press her lips against his once more. She allowed him no moment to breathe, held on to him too fiercely for him to let her go without hurting her, and so he responded just as eagerly, grabbed her waist with his good hand and spun her around, drank in her moan as her back hit the nearest tree.

 

The voices remained at a safe distance, and Emma's lips against his became more and more urgent, her tongue battling as if her life depended on it, as if he was holding back the air she so bitterly needed to survive. And perhaps, he wondered as her hand slipped into his trousers, he was doing just that. Killing her slowly. Perhaps that was why he was still alive, because he had not failed in his assignment at all, was still fulfilling his dark purpose. One slow touch and branding kiss after the other.

 

He wanted to push away from her and disappear now before it was all to late, to trust in the still far away voices to collect her and take her back to safety. This was his failure, he knew as he did nothing to stop her fingers from roughly pulling at the strings of his trousers. He had failed to protect her from him, to protect himself from his weakness, from his desire to be whole again.

 

Vaguely, he continued to pay attention to the steps approaching them. With each breath, his willpower began to fade, and everything turned into a blur so vivid that it dragged him under, like a spell.

 

Somehow, his hand had found a grip on Emma's leg, had hitched it up to his hip, the hook holding it in place as she pushed herself closer. Her hands impatiently fumbled with his trousers, the thick leather resistant, until finally she had pushed it down far enough to free him. He felt as if a rush of air had filled his lungs after he had drowned, and he buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his groan as her hand curled around him.

 

Her touch was fleeting, light, curious, and he knew he was taking so much from her as his palm followed the smooth skin at the inside of her thigh, her leg trembling as he held her tightly against him, pushed himself further into her touch.

 

Every sinew of his body ached for her, and he knew there was no turning back now. He could still step away and disappear, but the real harm was done, and as he pushed her further up against the rough bark of the tree, he knew he could not take anymore than she had already lost.

 

 _Please._ Her coarse plea was the last thing he heard before he drowned out everything, before he felt her legs wrapping around his waist so tightly that he stumbled forward, pushing her even tighter against the tree. All voices and moving far off faded into silence, his fingers trembling as he pushed aside her undergarments. Her hands wrapped around his neck, gentle fingers sifting through his wet hair, and he took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling her, feeling her soft shoulder against his cheek before he pushed into her.

 

Heat engulfed him, spread through his veins like a blaze of fire, and not even his lips pressing against Emma's shoulder could mute the groan that ripped through his chest. She tensed in his arms, her fingers digging into his shoulders painfully. Everything was on fire, his breath shaking so violently he could barely find control over it.

 

Slowly, he looked up, everything swimming in front of his eyes until he looked at her, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips, a single tear dripping from her chin down to where her chest was pressed against his, where she filled his heartless chest with warmth and tenderness.

 

They simply looked at each other for a long moment, as if they were in a silent agreement over the destruction they had set in motion, and the utter beauty of it all. Killian whispered her name, his lips seeking out hers to gently kiss her, softer, so much softer than before. She sighed against his lips when he began to move, the realization slowly creeping up on him that they would not be alone for much longer, that the voices were getting clearer.

 

With each slow thrust, the grip of Emma's fingers on his shoulders began to soften, and eventually, her lips moved pliantly beneath his own, a dance they had mastered now, soft and full of need, never enough but always so close.

 

Her sighs turned into moans as he began to move faster, more heat shooting through his body, coiling at the base of his spine, and he felt the echo of his beating heart in hist chest, Emma's own beating furiously through her chest. He knew they would never get this chance again, that only this once he would be able to hold her, trail kisses from her red lips to her flushed neck, feel her hands clawing at his back as her breathing turned shallow.

 

It fueled him, even more than the venom-like burn in his veins, the thought that this moment was all they would ever get. He thrust into her faster still, her legs squeezing him almost too tightly, and he stopped caring for breath to suck at the skin beneath her ear, his name on her lips like a prayer. His legs began to burn, his arm pickling from holding her up against him, his lungs threatening to burst from the lack of air that flowed into them, everything too overwhelming, too much.

 

Emma's fingers dug into his shoulders once more, a loud moan escaping her lips that stopped abruptly as she went rigid in his arms, and Killian felt as if he was being pulled into a different world, everything fading into blurry colors as he thrust into her one more time.

 

Her name fell from his lips silently, merely a release of a long held breath. Emma shivered in his arms as he kissed the the skin beneath her ear that had turned red beneath his ministration, and he allowed his eyes to fall closed for a brief moment. In that short space of time, when he drank in her breathing as it slowed down, felt her hands trail along the base of his skull and her lips whispering against his cheek, he could picture it all. All this should have been, and all it never would be.

 

A loud crack pulled them both out of their trance, the voices all of a sudden much too close. Killian took a careful step back, holding her steady, aching for the warmth of her body as soon as they parted. Emma, however, would not move her hand, resting it against his neck to pull him down against her lips once more. She did not kiss him, merely hovered there, breathing him in.

 

 _I will find a way._ Killian whispered the words without realizing that he had made a decision. Everything he felt was to be seen in Emma's smile, in the tears that once more began to form in her eyes. He wiped away the first that trailed down her flushed cheek, realizing only now that the rain had stopped.

 

So much did he long to kiss her again. So much it tore him apart, yet the voices grew louder, the noise of disturbed undergrowth increasing, and he stepped back, Emma's hand dropping.

 

_Promise me._

 

He walked backwards, away from the voices, watched as Emma smoothed out her gown and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the curls he had disturbed.

 

It was a bloody battle he fought with himself. One he should have known from the start he would lose. And lose it he did, the second the words left his lips, before he quickly disappeared into the shadow of the trees.

 

_I promise._


	5. part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a bit longer than I thought it would, but I hope it will explain some of the lose ends during the previous chapters.

_Well, well. If that isn't the Captain himself._

 

His breathing was still ragged, and had he not been so deep within the thick forest, he might have taken the words for a mirage, an echo of times long gone. As he turned, everything still burned from her touch, her gentle eyes continuously staring at him in his mind, the echo of her soft sighs and tender words lingering. She had invaded him, had crawled under his skin, and not even the distance and dull greyness of the forest could wash her away.

 

He stood strong, not letting anything cause a crack in his stance.

 

_Cora._ She smiled at him, a smile he knew well. A smile that went hand in hand with a sharp pain in his chest, memories of her hand inside it, curled around his heart when it had still beat there.

 

_It has been a long time._ The smoothness of her words, always chosen well, never spoken without necessity, caught him off guard. Above all, he remembered her wickedness, not her solid and unshakable exterior. A wall he had only once seen to crumble but a little. _I see you have found yourself in trouble once more._

 

In his head, he could still see the bright colors of Wonderland, the wicked grins and confusing corners. In his many years, he had traveled to countless places. Out of all of them, it was the last he wanted to see again. _What do you want?_ The mere presence of a woman he had loathed for almost two decades now drove his hook further into the tree, and he struggled to remain calm.

 

Without replying, Cora took a few slow steps towards him, the hem of her midnight blue gown brushing against the dry undergrowth, breaking the silence of the forest. _We helped each other once before._ Killian did not move an inch, never recoiled, took no step back when she stood right in front of him. _It looks to me as if we might both require each others assistance again._

 

He remembered all too well. His hook inside her chest, as empty then as his was now, the wicked grin on her face. Her hand clawed around his heart, so close to finally, _finally_ taking his life. A life that, at the time, had been fueled by revenge, by a blood lust too profound to allow him to see clearly. Her words still burned in his memory, a proposition he had had no choice but to take, taking her back to her daughter, the promise of finally exacting his revenge, of taking the Crocodile's life, pumping his blood furiously. Never had he gotten the chance, Cora's corpse, or what Regina believed it to be, immobile and almost peaceful, watching on as Regina tore out his heart and locked it away. Cora had disappeared, leaving him behind empty and unsatisfied.

 

_You never lived up to your bargain._ A flash of hatred began to ignite inside of him, something he never thought he could feel again this fiercely, not without his heart. Something had changed, something he could not yet explain, and it crept through his body slowly, almost unknown. _I never got my revenge._

 

_But you got to live._ She was so close he could feel her breath, smell the scent of death that seemed to linger on her skin. He wondered where she had gone, how she had spent the last twenty years, her daughter believing she was dead, while he was frozen, chasing down demons that were planted in his mind. His need for revenge slowly fading, memories of the woman who had died in his arms slowly forming into a story, ceasing to be a memory. _And now I can help you get what you want._

 

_At what price?_ Everything came at a price. He had learned that long ago, when his father had taught him to steer a ship and had abandoned him, when his brother's life had been spared and he had still died in his arms, when the woman he had loved had followed him and died in his arms, too, when he had trusted in a promise to finally fulfill his life's only purpose and had lost his own heart. Nothing came without prize, and this woman, this witch, was no exception.

 

_I can help you get back your heart._ Slowly, her hand hovered above the emptiness of his chest, no warmth radiating off her fingers, protected by leather gloves. _Is that not what you want?_ Her words seemed much like poison, running through his veins, tempting him. It was what he wanted most, yet he did not trust the woman, not more than he trusted himself. _I can make you_ feel _again._

 

_How do you know_ _all this?_ His voice was merely a whisper now. Once more, she had found his weakness, had taken him by surprise, picking the one thing that could break through his cold exterior.

 

_Dear Captain, why do you think you're still alive?_ Killian could feel his eyes widen, the realization sinking in sharply. It all made sense, his long months roaming the realm, trying to push away any thought of Emma, attempting, and failing, to erase her touch and voice and scent and smile from his mind. Long nights spent waiting for the inevitable, for his heart to crumble in fiery fingers. _After failing to kill the Princess?_

 

It had been Cora all along, turning him as well as her daughter to puppets in her game, always hidden in the shadows behind the stage, orchestrating every move to lead it down the path towards her victory. He wondered where all of this was leading, what this wicked woman had on her mind. With each breath they took in silence, staring into each others heartless and cold eyes, having more in common now than ever before, Killian began to think that even back then, when she had promised him his revenge and had watched on as her daughter tore out his heart, it had all been planned, thought trough meticulously.

 

_What is that you want in return?_ His woods were hushed, like venom slipping past his icy lips.

 

The grin on her face widened for a brief moment, as if in anticipation, tension rising until eventually, it fell, and her lips turned into a thin, menacing line. _You._

 

_What?_

 

Cora took a deep breath, inhaling so strongly that Killian saw her chest rising under the restraint of her corset. Wordlessly, she turned on her heels, walking away from him slowly. All he could do was watch her back as she retreated. Everything she had said still lingered in his mind, and the temptation to take her offer was too grand. It might be his one and only chance at a glimpse of his old life, at a flicker of hope for a new future, a fresh start.

 

_Regina._ When Cora finally resumed speaking, her steps faltering, the sound of her daughter's name was shadowed by a deep bitterness. _All these years she has worked in silence._ Finally, almost disappearing behind the trees, she turned, the look in her eyes too dark, too consuming. _There is a curse coming, my dear Captain. One that will take every living soul to a new land, and there, you will not remember who you are._ Once more, a wicked smile spread across her aged face, yet there lay something hidden beneath it. What is was, Killian could not tell entirely. For a second, he took it for compassion, then it flickered into sadness, before all emotion was drained from it. _Or that you ever loved the dear Princess._

 

He had no confirmation to indicate she was telling the truth, nothing but a foul and unexplainable sense of trust, one he had allowed to guide him before. One that had failed him before. Still, he could feel his heartless soul betraying him, before he could stop the words from spilling.

 

_What shall you have me do?_

 

Cora smiled then, truly a smile more than an evil grin. He knew nothing lay behind the simple gesture, that she was as incapable of loving and caring as he was. The only difference, and he clung to it now as she stepped towards him again, was the circumstances of how they had lost their hearts. Her own hands ripping hers from her chest and hiding it from the world, by choice, to rid herself of her weaknesses. And his helplessness and he watched his own heart disappearing into a box, longing as much for the ability to feel as his lungs required air. _I can protect you from the curse, and when the time comes, you will assist me in reaching that new land. You will have your ship, your heart, your memories._

 

Understanding washed over him then. Cold, harsh, painful. _But not Emma._

 

Cora shook her head slowly, and while he could feel the emptiness of his chest throb painfully, he knew there was no other way. There had never been a way for them to be together, and the thought had only crossed his mind a handful of times - never had he allowed it to take over his thoughts, to drag him into an abyss of pain and hopelessness even less merciful as his life already was.

 

_You will have the chance to save her._

 

It would be more than enough.

 

.

 

Why he had decided to leave the hook buried beneath a tree in the woods that night, he could not tell. Perhaps to stop himself from climbing the tower to Emma's room once more – he never would have managed without the hook. Perhaps to bury the part of him he feared. Perhaps something had told him the night would take this turn.

 

Had he kept it, he would have been dead by now.

 

Roaming the empty and dark alleys that lined the castle, he had been much more careless. Perhaps it was an unconscious decision, perhaps he had wanted to get caught. To end this. To pay for all the lives he had taken.

 

When the guards had stopped him in his tracks, had asked questions about his name and what he was doing around the castle at this time of night, the truth had lingered on his lips. That he was Hook. That he was the man that had appeared in the princess's room months ago, threatening to kill her. Sent to end her young life. That he was the man the realm was looking for, who had inccocent people trembling in fear.

 

Instead, he told them the name of a sailor he had once known, hundreds of years ago when he still had dreams, that man now long dead, his grandchildren perhaps already growing old somewhere in this world.

 

They dragged him into the dungeons, and he put up no fight, not when they asked about his hand and inspected the skin under his brace, not when they shackled him to the wall, not when they wanted to know everything about him and shook his shoulders roughly when he repeatedly told them he was merely looking for a place to sleep.

 

In his mind, Emma's face flickered up brightly and kindly, unlike the damp and cold cell they kept him in, until it eventually, by the cruelty of loneliness and night time, morphed into Cora's, aged and cruel, her words like a chill in his memory, reminding him of the deal he had made.

 

To die now, in captivity, would mean the end of the bargain, the end of everything he was fighting for. Slowly, fire crawled back into his veins, and he sat up straighter against the cold stone, breathing steadily.

 

Waiting.

 

.

 

It had been so many months since Killian had first scanned the light armor of the royal guards, back when spring had blossomed and he had watched them patrol next to the princess. Back then, he had known they would prove no obstacle.

 

He had been right.

 

To get inside the walls of the castle had proved to be much too easy, and he had moved through the darkness of the night like a shadow once more, his hand curled tightly around his own furiously beating heart. Its red glow filled the corridors ominously, like a promise of bloodshed and death.

 

In the years to follow, he could barely remember how he had pushed past the surprised guard, had dragged him into Emma's chambers before he had the chance to unsheathe his sword. Everything had happened in a blur. The continuous beating of his heart in his hand, foreign and frightful, Emma's shocked yelp as she stumbled out of her bed, scrambling onto her feet to run towards him

 

For a splint second, Killian was distracted by her, the way she had burned herself into his mind too relentless. He could not escape her. Memories of her lips whispering his name, of her touch and smile flooded him, his feet growing roots as he found himself unable to move. Weeks had passed since he had last seen her, since he had watched her turn into a blurred line with the trees and soft remainders of falling rain.

 

_Killian!_

 

Almost too late did he realize the guard was wrapping his fingers around the handle of his sword, and Emma's cry of his name began to fade into silence, a darkness taking over he knew too well, a dark veil clouding his every sense. Dimly, he felt himself move, felt the muscles in his arm ripple as he drove the hook forward. More recalling from his memory than actually taking notice, he felt skin giving in to sharp metal. A part of him recalled the scent of blood, and somewhere in the distance he heard a piercing shout.

 

Blood. Flesh. Death. Torn skin. Darkness. Pain. Guilt. Rage.

 

For the longest moment, there was nothing but earth-shattering silence, throbbing in his ears like a painful echo, nothing to fight it with, nothing to help him out of the abyss that had swallowed him. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to pull him out of the icy waters, flooding his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

 

Somewhere in the distance, dull and contorted, he could make out a soft, yet desperate plea. A voice speaking to him from the silence, words that reminded him of his name. Slowly waking him, wrapping a cold hand around his.

 

He wondered, for a moment, if the hand was going to pull him under completely, end the misery he found himself strangled by. Yet, with each moment that passed – achingly slowly and burning cold – he found himself growing warmer, found the words echoing louder. The pleas turned into cries. Something soft and delicate brushing across his fingers.

 

His fingers. Clenched tightly into a fist, something warm drumming beneath his vice grip. Sharp pain shooting through his chest.

 

_Killian._

 

He took a deep, sharp breath, eyes widening as he returned. A blurry childhood memory overcame him, of a young and foolish boy tripping and falling into the depths of the sea, begging to the gods above for the darkness to finally take him, for the pain to end, only to burst through the surface, fresh air flooding his aching lungs.

 

In this moment, looking down at the hook that was still buried in the guard's neck, coated by crimson, running blood, he felt like he had back then, re-awaking. Yet, the relief was short, like it had been when he was a boy, pain following immediately, and entirely without mercy.

 

_Killian, please._ Her words were hesitant, washed away by the tremor of her tears, and for the longest moment, he chose to stare into the dead eyes of the man he had just killed instead of facing Emma, and the hurt and terror he had caused. Once, he had thought himself brave, for all the adventures he had taken on, even, in a twisted way, for all the lives he had taken. Yet, in this moment, trembling as Emma's fingers pried open his own, he felt no bravery left inside of him at all. Too afraid was he to face her, to face the bloody keeping of his promise to her. A promise he never should have made. To witness the beginning of what they might have been in a better world, knowing that this beginning was tied with its end.

 

_Look at me._ He could not. Not an ounce of strength seemed left inside of him, washed away by guilt and shame. By crimson blood.

 

Never would he have been strong enough to face Emma, not until her hand – and when had all the blood gotten on her pale skin? - cupped his cheek, and turned his head towards her. Everything he had feared was there, as clear as the iron smell of blood and the warmth of it against his skin. The tears that were trailing down her cheeks, eyes as red as her hands, crimson stains all over her white nightgown. Horror and fear leaking from every pore, and she stared at him in disbelief, in fright, and in sadness. It was this sadness that flickered most clearly across her features, her lips trembling as she took him in.

 

Silent words poured from his lips, words he could not utter. Apologies and explanations.

 

_Killian._ It was almost impossible for him to distinguish his name, and had he not seen her pale lips form the word, he would have taken it for a trick his mind was playing, still dazed, still not quite here with her. A strong tug threatened to pull him back, a feeling all too familiar, one that intensified with every life he took. Each time, it became harder and harder for him to come back, to escape the shadows.

 

Still, he could not speak, but eventually, his senses returned, and his eyes fluttered down to where Emma was still prying his fingers lose. He understood without words, and released the tight fist he had formed. Between them now, glowing and much less black than he had expected, beat his heart, in the open palm of his hand.

 

Slowly, he looked back up at Emma, and saw her eyes fixed upon his, not even flickering down towards his heart. She simply moved, so delicately he barely noticed, moved forwards on her knees, until she was face to face with him. Her fingertips ghosted across his palm, before the weight of his beating heart was suddenly gone.

 

Gaze drifting downwards once more, he took in the sight of her pale and bloody hand wrapped around his heart.

 

_I love you._ He spoke the words as if he had not formed them at all, as if the presence of his heart alone was working itself into his mind, into the empty place where it belonged.

 

Emma's eyes were still focused on his, staring so deeply into them that he was utterly sure she could see the darkness inside, could see how lost he was. How strongly the lack of a heart affected him, how much the dark pull threatened to take him away, to pull him under. Still, at the same time, he could see from her stead-fast gaze how strongly she was avoiding the sight on the ground, the dead guard she had probably known all her life, whose name and family were no strangers to her, whose blood was all over her.

 

He sighed, once more looking down at his heart, and this time, he could feel Emma's gaze following his own. There it lay, red and furious, pumping against the gentle fingers that held it. If this was all the peace he was offered – his heart held, not locked away in box, but softly in her hand - it would be enough.

 

_You did it._ So broken was her voice, trembling from the tremor of her tears. It killed him to hear her in such pain, to watch her fingers dance across his heart, a sad symphony playing somewhere in the distance, not yet to be heard.

 

He was so torn, the sight of his heart in her hands both soothing and unsettling, and the need to see her, to drink her in as long as he still could clouding his mind. His breathing was becoming furious, and he marveled at the steady beating of his heart, while a dusty memory told him it should be beating raggedly now. _I promised._

 

Emma drew in a raspy breath, nodding carefully as her eyes flickered towards the dead guard. Outside, the wind was leashing against the walls of the castle, the sky growing even darker despite the late hour. He knew there was not much time left, that the sand was falling in the hour glass, one that had never truly been filled.

 

This was over before it had ever truly begun. They were. And he had allowed it.

 

With shaking fingers, Emma moved to place his heart back into his palm, as if urging him on to do what they both knew needed to be done. But this was not how he had painted the picture in his mind. If these few minutes together were all they were to ever have, he needed to make them count. _No._ He reached out to wrap his fingers around Emma's. _I want you to do it._ Softly, he pressed, until her fingers were once more curled around his heart. Carefully, he applied more pressure, too irresistible the need to hold her tightly. A sharp pain shot through his chest at the motion. Emma sucked in a frightened breath, looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. _Please._

 

For a moment, Emma hesitated, eyes narrowing in doubt and a hint of curiosity. Over and over, her gaze flickered down towards their entwined hands, the red glow that radiated from their touch almost soothing, despite the cold and the prominent smell of blood. Killian almost missed it, but for a brief second, the smallest hint of a smile danced around the edges of Emma's trembling lips.

 

Her free hand lifted slowly, until she cupped his cheek, warm and soft against his dark stubble, and he allowed his eyes to flutter close, relishing her tender touch.

 

It happened so quickly, too fast for him to take notice of the harrowing pain or Emma's frightened gasp. Heat suddenly flooded through his veins, burning hot, setting him aflame. He was a torch, bursting with light, eyes wide open yet seeing nothing in the room surrounding him. Breathing was impossible, his lungs shut. Completely immobile, time passing around him.

 

Images flashed past his eyes. His mother's kind smile, his own small hand securely wrapped in hers. A bowl of steaming soup in front of the fire, shoulder to shoulder with Liam, whose laugh echoed in his ears. The fluttering feeling in his stomach the first time he had set foot upon a ship, marveling at the diamond lights that were scattered across the water's surface. The prickling sensation of sunlight touching bare skin. His desperate hand clinging to his mother as they took her away, pale and hollow-eyed. Dead. The tears on Liam's face, his hand digging deeply into his shoulder. Their father's pride as they stood behind the helm. The heat of rum as it dripped down his throat. Elation and excitement at the sight of the horizon. Milah. Her smile and the echo of her laughter. His brother turning cold in his arms. The husky voice of his father as he wished him goodnight, the last time he ever saw him.

 

Memories mingled with dreams, and it became almost impossible to distinguish them. The golden shine of a sextant, children running along the beach, laughing. The rush of the sea ringing in his ears. A white veil, as smooth as silk between his fingers as he lifted it. The salty taste of the sea upon his lips. A baby's tiny fist around his finger. A wicked laughter in the darkness of the never-ending night of Neverland. Grey hair and dried skin, like paper. Black, thick droplets of death soaking into his skin.

 

The warmth of a heartbeat in his chest, the steady rhythm drumming in his ears. With a deep breath – when did the air begin to taste so sweet? - his eyes began to see again, everything blurring until it disappeared. Until only she remained.

 

_Emma._

 

The expression on her face was almost unreadable, a dance of fear and joy, smiling as the tears continued to run freely, shivering as she narrowed her eyes, her trembling hand still pressed firmly against his chest, just above where his heart was beating, faster and faster the closer he leaned into her touch.

 

She was right there in front of him, so close, and he felt so overwhelmed, truly felt it. His hand reached out before he even made the decision, resting against her cheek, feeling the warm wetness beneath his palm. She was burning up, a furnace beneath his touch. _I love you_. He repeated the words in a heady whisper over and over as his hand roamed her neck, her shoulders, speaking them against her cheek, her lips, the soft tresses of her hair, her pulse point as it beat furiously.

 

Almost furiously, he wrapped his arm around her, careful to turn the deadly tip of his hook away from her, still knowing that the blood was soaking her dress. She seemed to care little, her own hands roaming his back, grabbing his hair, pulling his body against hers as sobs wrecked her and she whispered soft words into his ear he could not understand. _I love you. I love you._ Over and over, because he needed her to know, needed her to remember the words, remember the way they felt, even if she was to never remember him.

 

Still on their knees, their bodies were pressed together tightly in a desperate embrace, tears were beginning to form in Killian's eyes, burning and turning Emma's features into a blur of pearls and gold. The pain of knowing she would never remember this again, it filled his heart with a sorrow so agonizing he began to wish for her to rip it out again. _Forgive me_ , he murmured into the skin below her ear, inhaling her scent, trembling in her arms.

 

In his tight embrace, he felt Emma stirring, pushing at his chest slightly, enough for their eyes to meet, so close that he could see the different shades of green that were shining like jewels, still coated in tears. _Forgive you?_ Her fingers found his, interlacing them, a tightly knitted web he clung to.

 

The faint smile on Emma's lips began to fade as she must have seen the terror in his eyes. The guilt and shame, the anger and rage, all his love for her and all the pain that burned in his veins. More than anything, he needed her to understand, needed her to know that he was not giving up, that all he had done, all that was to come – he would not forget her, would never let her go, not until the day she would send him away.

 

His mouth opened, lips trembling, trying desperately to form the words. Yet nothing but silence filled the room, and he fought against the pain inside of him to speak up. To tell her the truth. He had never lied to her, yet to have kept this from her, to have hidden away this secret, it felt as if he had lied, any way.

 

Still fighting for the right words, a quiet rush suddenly interrupted the silence, and Emma's eyes widened as she fixated a point over his shoulder. He understood. Their time was up, the last grain of sand had fallen.

 

Outside, the world was still growing impossibly darker, raging in fury as Emma scrambled out of their embrace, onto her bare feet. She took no notice of the pool of blood she was standing in, soaking the hem of her nightgown.

 

Killian did not dare turn around, not yet. Just one more second, one last look at Emma's face, even now that it was contorted in fear.

 

_It's time to leave._

 

He knew Cora must have been eying him, because Emma's gaze now flickered restlessly between him and the woman standing behind him. Confusion masked her face, and it broke his heart when she took a slow step backwards, the night so dark that no moonlight reached the room anymore.

 

_What is happening?_ She looked at him where he was still kneeling on the floor in a sea of crimson, her eyes flickering between fear, betrayal and hope. It reminded him of how she had looked upon him all those months ago, when he had sneaked into her room for the first time, intending to drill the hook into her heart and watch the life drain out of her with each fading beat. Back then, she had taken him in with fear and caution, yet an underlying sense of trust, the thin line between hope and determination that he would not kill her.

 

In this moment, he saw all the hope slowly fading, saw her fighting against her own heart, stepping away from him further. His own heart began to tear, and it hurt more than it ever had when it was outside of his body, far from his reach.

 

His hand reached out towards her, coated red, gleaming angrily in the candlelight. _It's a curse._ So many words he needed to say, so many apologies, so many tears he wanted to shed, so many ways he wanted to tell her how she had saved him. _It's coming. The Evil Queen, she-_

 

_There is no time,_ _Hook._ Cora's steps had been silent, and suddenly, he felt her weathered hand on his arm, pulling him to his feet. Emma followed the movement, shock etched upon her face.

 

_What have you done?_ The words slipped from her lips in a harsh whisper, veiled by tears that now began to run down her ashen face once more. All the warmth seemed to have gone, all the softness dried up.

 

Cora pulled him away from Emma slowly, and he found no strength to fight her. He had made a deal, had known this day would come. To watch Emma slip away from him, the thought planted in her mind that he was doing this to hurt her, to serve the darkness she had always known resided in him, it hurt more than losing her in the first place. He could not leave her behind like this, not when she thought that he was truly the man everybody else saw him as. Hook. A killer, no mercy, no remorse. None of that was truly him, and she had buried the flickers of it, had brought to life the man he had once been.

 

Whispering her name, he felt his feet moving against the stone floor, his arm still reached out towards her. Emma, whose back was now pressed against the wall, almost disappearing in the darkness. And still, the world grew darker, so dark now that even Emma's eyes drifted towards the sky outside, the brutal storm clouding the horizon. With eyes widened in horror, she looked back at him.

 

_I will save you._ His voice was raised now, strength returning, fighting against Cora's grip. _I promise._ Something in the echo of his words seemed to crawl beneath Emma's skin, like a key, a hidden message. Words he had spoken before, in the woods, when she had opened herself to him and he had burned himself with her. The terror in her eyes grew no less, yet a softness seemed to return, a sadness he had seen before. _I will find you._

 

The last thing he saw before everything turned as black as the starless sky was a lonely teardrop falling from Emma's cheek down towards the ground, towards the trail of blood she had smeared across the cold stone floor.

 

.

 

In the distance, dark clouds made their way towards them, so dark they stood out against the night sky. Flashes of green illuminated the sky, a purple glow lingering on the ground. He stood still, next to Cora, looking up at what was coming. Now that the time had come, he wondered whether or not he had made the right decision. Perhaps, and thinking so even more now that his heart was beating furiously in his chest, he should have let the curse take him along with everybody else, erase all his painful memories. If Emma loved him as much as he loved her, perhaps they would have found each other, even if they could not remember.

 

The tears on her face were burning themselves into his mind, and he could think about nothing but the pain he had caused her. Around them, the night continued to grow darker, and when Cora used her staff to send a bright ray of light into the sky, he held his breath.

 

Above them a shining, yet almost invisible layer spread out, glistening against the darkness as the heavy clouds came closer and closer, angry and flashing. Emma. She must be with her parents in this moment of defeat, or so he hoped, the scene that had taken place in her room mere minutes ago probably not having gone unnoticed. Killian felt more tears prickling in his eyes as he imagined her fear in this moment, fear of the unknown, her pain at his betrayal.

 

_The curse won't last forever._ Cora spoke for the first time since she had dragged him away from Emma, since she had taken him here, a corner of the realm he did not recognize. _It will end._ His eyes only focused on her briefly, the sight of her causing his stomach to twist. Perhaps her words were meant to console him, yet he only felt more lost, more ashamed of himself. _When it does, Regina will truly have lost everything. Then, she will need me._ Never had he understood, had been stunned by how Regina could have sent him to murder her mother – the first time she had sent him out to kill, the first of many, and how foolish had he been back then to trust it being a one time thing – and for Cora to bear such resentment towards her own child. _And then, our quest will resume. In ten years, there will be a savior._ She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and he looked at her then, away from the purple clouds now directly above them. _A child._

 

_Ten years?_ Ever since she had told him about the curse that day in the forest, she had not revealed much about the nature of the curse, and he wondered now how much she truly knew, and why.

 

_You won't even notice. You will be frozen._ He felt his chest contract painfully, the prospect of more years spend in a trap where time meant nothing adding another burden to his weary mind. Too many lifetimes had he spent alone, battered and broken. _Until your child breaks the curse._

 

At first, her words echoed in his mind, his eyes too occupied with the frenzy of bright green lightening above their heads. Then, slowly, the wording trickled into his conscious thoughts. _My child?_ His eyes dropped back towards Cora, standing next to him with an unreadable smile on her lips, eyes as dark as the sky above them. _I don't-_ It all burned brightly behind his eyes then. Emma's face, her urgent touches, her soft skin, the heat of her, his name on her lips, the tears she had shed for him. Terror spread through him as cold as ice. _No...No._

 

Staring into Cora's deceptive eyes, he shook his head madly, muttering the word _no_ over and over. _I lived up to my bargain, Captain. Your ship is at a nearby port. And you have your heart. You can_ feel _again._

 

With a curt nod, she turned on her heels, determinedly walking towards the edge of the forest, no more words spoken, no more explanations, and he would have buried his hook in her back could he only still find it in him to do so.

 

His hand in a tight fist, dried blood still covering the skin, he looked back up at the sky with tears in his eyes. _Yes, I feel._ Finally, a sole tear spilled over, trailing across his cheek until he felt it part from his skin, dropping onto the dark ground beneath his feet. _Cold._

 

_the end_


End file.
